Free Baby It's Cold Outside by Addison Fox Page A

she took in the matched looks of merriment on both women’s faces.
    It was funny, she mused, how easy it was to laugh with both of them. “And tell me how I can possibly go from having you stare daggers through me mere hours ago to telling you deep, dark secrets?”
    Avery shrugged. “I’m irresistible.”
    Sloan laughed and took a seat. Before she could say anything, Grier interrupted around another swig of water. “Seriously, though, Avery. I feel like I’ve known you forever. It’s nice.”
    “It is,” Avery agreed. “Speaking of nice—I want details.”
    Avery’s dark gaze caught the overhead lights of the bar, reminding Sloan they were still sitting in a recently full room. With a quick glance around—and to ensure they had privacy—she leaned forward. “He kissed me. Well, after he challenged me. Then he kissed me.”
    “Whoa, whoa.” Grier waved a hand, her water bottle now empty. “I think this calls for more wine. I finished my water like a good girl and this is too juicy for another bottle of H-two-O.”
    “My thoughts exactly.”
    Avery was already reaching under the bar for a bottle when the label caught Sloan’s attention. “You’ve got Mouton-Rothschild?”
    “Holy shit!” Grier leaned forward. “I’ve never had that before.”
    “Me either,” Sloan admitted, even as she watched Avery expertly uncork the bottle.
    “Then you’re in for a treat.” Avery’s smile broadened as she poured small amounts into two glasses, offering them forward to Grier and Sloan for a taste.
    Sloan swirled her wine, the ritual of tasting a pleasant diversion from the grilling on her kiss with Walker she knew was still to come. As the first drop hit her tongue, she closed her eyes at the sheer magnificence of the wine. “It’s gorgeous.”
    “Every single time.” Avery leaned forward and poured a full glass for each of them, raising her own glass in their direction. “To a good story and one I hope is rather juicy.”
    On a soft clink, Sloan touched the rim of her glass to theirs, then took another sip, releasing a small sigh as she set her glass back on the counter. “Truly amazing.”
    “That it is.” Avery swirled her glass, holding it up to the light.
    As she took another delicate sip, Sloan’s thoughts tripped over everything that had happened since her arrival. “Avery. Wait a minute. This stuff is like liquid gold. And that’s Chihuly glass in the lobby. What’s going on around here?”
    Avery took a sip of her own wine, but Sloan saw a slight wariness that tightened the corners of her new friend’s mouth. “So we have some nice things. We may be a bit out of the way, but we’re not complete hicks.”
    “I wasn’t suggesting you were. But this is extreme. Come on. This is a thousand-dollar bottle of wine. Most people don’t have this lying around, and if they do, they sure as hell don’t just open it up over a chat. What gives?”
    “What gives is that this is all”—Avery waved a hand to gesture to the room at large—“how Susan’s son assuages his guilt. Expensive gifts that arrive with an alarming degree of regularity.”
    Sloan’s heart turned over as she heard the note of unbearable sadness that tinged Avery’s words. “Roman?”
    “Yes.”
    “And yet you stay here? Near it all?”
    “I do.”
    “But he broke your heart?” Sloan phrased it as a question, but even as the words left her lips she knew it was more of a statement.
    “That he did. But, despite that small fact, I can’t leave.”
    “Sure you can,” Grier urged. “You don’t have to stay here.”
    Avery’s eyes were bright as she stopped staring at the wine in her glass for a few seconds to look up. “Actually, I can’t leave. Maybe someday, but not today. So in the meantime, I’m going to enjoy my Rothschild and my view of the Chihuly glass and my new friends—especially my friend who has a kissing story she’s putting off telling.”
    Sloan knew a closed subject when she heard one and